


I need another lover, be mine ('cause I got stamina)

by inber



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Cunnilingus, Enthusiastic Consent, F/M, Multiple Orgasms, Not Canon Compliant, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Recreational Drug Use, Top Eskel (The Witcher), Wet & Messy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:48:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26422153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inber/pseuds/inber
Summary: “You promised a drink, though.”“I did.” She gazed up at him through the dark veil of her lashes. “Are you thirsty?” Her hand rested on his chest, a feather-light touch.“Parched.” Eskel growled.(An imagining of Eskel's meeting with the succubus. She's not harming anyone, he's in the area; why not, right?)
Relationships: Eskel (The Witcher)/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 23
Kudos: 170





	I need another lover, be mine ('cause I got stamina)

**Author's Note:**

> Eyyy it's just porn! Because I love Goat Dad! I know a lot of people imagine the succubus as a redhead, but this is my fic and I'll do what I want. Uhh. Enjoy!

She was as aware of his approach as he was of her very presence in the thick of the forest. Eskel's medallion gently hummed against the fabric of his undershirt, warm and warning. Even without it, he'd be a fool to recognise her as anything but succubus.

After all, the horns and hooves were something of a giveaway.

Pausing her gathering of wild rosemary, she half-turned, jadefire eyes framed by a dark sweep of kohl. A wave of something effervescent and pleasant crested towards Eskel, hit the barrier of his skin, and sluiced off ineffectively. He chuckled.

“Witchers are resistant to magic, my lady.” Eskel inclined his head politely.

She looked startled for a moment, the tenseness and terror of the threat that he posed clearly registering within her mind. But he had not drawn a weapon. He had not advanced upon her. Eskel simply idled beside the gnarled trunk of a tree, reading her as she did him.

“And what of seduction?” She asked, cocking one hip so that she might face him fully.

_Beautiful_ was too plain a word to describe her. Crowned by a wild halo of inky curls, the succubus had been made plump and delicious by the lifestyle she chose to lead. She was all curves, the softness of her inviting, the rich umber of her skin dotted with a small constellation of freckles. Perhaps they were only visible to a witcher's eye. Eskel certainly imagined that he could see something celestial within her.

He could not vocalise such a statement in good conscience. “I was a man, once,” Eskel said, “born with all the folly and weaknesses of one. I cannot boast an immunity.”

Her answering laughter was carefree. “You are no man. Men fall and fawn at my feet.”

Eskel knew the visage he painted; muscle-bound and tall, monstrously marked and pale in her presence. Glints of gilded luminescence from within canopy-shadow. _Mutant._ He lifted his shoulders wordlessly.

“They are dull creatures,” she continued, tilting her head, “I'd consider myself luckier if I crossed paths with more of your kind.”

The scar that bisected Eskel's cheekbone twitched in an itch, and he resisted the urge to paw at it. “So men find themselves here often, then?”

“No,” she said, “I'm nomadic, darling, and far beyond the foolishness of my youth.” With a graceful hand, she gestured to the surroundings. “We are quite removed from civilisation. One might make the case that you are intruding upon me, witcher.”

Eskel ducked his head. “Forgive me, my lady. I was simply passing through.”

“Are you here to kill me?”

“I see no cause for that. I hold no contract. No, I am not.”

Obviously she had not lived as long as she had by taking the word of others at face value. For a time, she considered Eskel as he stood in supplication by the tree, before she hummed her acceptance. She strolled towards him, the metronome tick of her hourglass hips a transfixing sight; one flimsy fold of her emerald-gauze dress slid down the slope of her shoulder, exposing the tantalising swell of one of her breasts. Eskel did not think the wardrobe mishap accidental. He also found himself not caring.

“Well, then,” she said, “It'd be rude of me not to invite you in for a drink, wouldn't it?”

* * *

The hut she inhabited was once host to a huntsman, long-gone by the time she'd moved her few things in. A low fire burned in the hearth, before which was spread a bed of supple furs. Dried herbs hung from the single windowsill. It struck Eskel with a sudden clarity that neither of them could afford to covet many possessions.

“Swords outside, please.” She instructed pleasantly.

Eskel wanted to reiterate that he had no desire to harm her, but he wondered how many times she'd heard that same line before. He nodded instead, undoing his baldric and letting his dual weapons rest just outside the jamb. Then, for the sake of courtesy, he removed his boots and socks so that he'd not track dirt into her home.

“What are you afraid of?” She asked, as he stood massive in the doorway, bare-foot and shoulders hunched.

“I am not afraid.” He said. “You won't hurt me.”

“I made no such vow.” She teased, stepping closer to him.

“You promised a drink, though.”

“I did.” She gazed up at him through the dark veil of her lashes. “Are you thirsty?” Her hand rested on his chest, a feather-light touch.

“Parched.” Eskel growled.

In one deft movement, he tangled his fingers into her coiled hair, cradling her head as he bent to kiss her. She met his heat and outmatched it, her lips yielding and soft as she parted them and sucked his inquisitive tongue, teeth snagging on his scar-snarl. Eskel smelt the lust on her, heard her breath hitch in her throat, and demolished the nagging doubt in the back of his mind.

When she parted from him, she drew in a harsh lungful of air, and smirked at him. His lips were tingling with the absence of her. He watched, bewildered, as she began to sink to her knees.

“Ah, ah,” Eskel caught one of her twisted horns with two fingers, “I've heard tales of a succubus' mouth. Don't want my soul sucked out of my prick.”

“Would it be such a bad way to go?” She asked, hovering, pressing chaste kisses against the leather of his codpiece. Beneath it, his hard cock twitched, uncomfortably constrained.

“No.” He conceded. “I was raised better, though.”

“Oh?”

“Mmm.” Eskel bent down, catching her by the squeeze of her waist. She yelped her surprise as he hefted her easily, turning to press her back into the wall, both her furred legs slung over his broad shoulders. The fabric of her dress hitched, exposing her cunt to his hungry gaze, and she shivered. The energy that hummed from his body was sumptuously intoxicating.

“You're coming first, sweetheart.” He told her, flashing her a lopsided grin, before he disappeared between her thick thighs.

“Oh!” She squealed, jerking her hips as he licked a firm stripe from her hole to her clit, “Oh, _yes._ ”

He held her firm as he feasted on her, one huge hand at the cheek of her bum, thumb tilting up to brush over the tight bundle of nerves again and again as he fucked her with his tongue. When she moaned, so did he; the vibration of his raspy baritone shook through her, and within moments, she was bucking her hips eagerly towards his face. He took it; let her pull at his hair and grind her clit against the slope of his nose, teased her dripping entrance with the pad of his finger; when her gasps pitched higher, his cock throbbed with her, aching for friction.

She came with a shout, and he lapped and laved her sweet pussy throughout it. As her legs began to relax, Eskel slipped one fat finger within her, curved it hard come-hither, and sealed his lips around her clit again. He delighted when her cunt seized and squirted down his chin. She could not find a place for her hands to light; they roved from his head, to the wall behind her, to the flesh of her own breasts as her second orgasm peaked and ebbed.

“Lyfia be good,” she groaned, pliant in Eskel's hands as he gently eased her down the wall, “where in the Continent did you learn how to do that?”

He laughed, steadying her. “Practice.”

“Would that I was the subject of your study, witcher.”

“Is it not better to reap the rewards of it now, instead?”

“Ah, talk, talk,” she grinned, pulling him towards the furs, “too much talk when I could be riding you. That's what I think.”

Eskel went willingly, divesting himself of his jerkin and undershirt, letting them drop carelessly. He slipped the fetter from his belt, kneeling with her. Her eager hands went for the robin-red bows at his codpiece.

“Easy access?” She asked.

“You complaining, gorgeous?”

“Definitely not.” She tugged his trousers down, and bit into the flesh of her lower lip upon the first sight of his cock, outlined beneath the fabric of his hose. “Oh absolutely, definitely not.”

He huffed out another laugh as she pulled the last of his clothing down, leaving him gloriously nude beneath her. Once subject to her appreciative stare, Eskel tried not to squirm. She pulled at a ribbon at the side of her gown and the gauze fell away from her body.

“Talking about easy access.” Eskel whispered, throat dry, his gaze raking over the bounce of her tits.

She rocked her hips forward, the folds of her cunt wetting his cock like the most forbidden French-kiss, and any sensible thought fled his mind. Eskel wanted to watch, wanted to see her face as she lined herself up with the head of his prick and began to sink onto him, but she was so snug and hot and he found himself tensing all over, squeezing his eyes shut, fisting the furs on either side of himself.

“Fuu _uck,_ ” he panted, holding her hips still when she was full of him, “just—fuck, just a second—you're so tight, sweetheart.”

“My muscles are still clenched from the amazing head that some guy just gave me.” Her voice was breathy.

“Sounds like—he sounds like—ah, _fuck!_ ”

“Shh,” she purred, rolling against him, fighting his grip, “let me feel you, darling.”

Eskel managed to relax his fingers enough to allow her to ride him, a debauched rhythm that had the curves of her bouncing with it, and he watched helplessly as she used him. He felt the quivering of her cunt, the heralding of her distant release. Sweat broke across his brow as his abdomen knitted tightly, a futile attempt at staving off the inevitable.

“Fuck, I can't—I—just, _wait_ —fuck!”

Hunching forward, he roared as his orgasm burst from him, traitorous and ecstatic at the same time. She cooed, stroking his hair, squeezing the pulses of come from his dick with the flex of her muscles. Eskel quivered and fell back against the furs.

“'M sorry,” he panted, “road's been long and, it's been awhile and, and you were so hot--”

“Hey, now.” She pressed a finger against his lips. He kissed it. “You're not planning on coming just once, are you?”

Eskel hadn't planned anything. In honesty, he didn't want to overstay his welcome, but she seemed very hospitable indeed. It vaguely pinged in the haze of his mind that she was feeding from him, which would account for his sated sluggishness and his _eagerness_.

He didn't mind, though. In the firelight, she seemed to radiate with health and power. It was sexy.

“I just need two minutes.” He smiled boyishly at her.

“Is that all?” She seemed surprised, as she slowly pulled away from him. Eskel bit back a moan as his oversensitive cock slipped from her messy hole. “Men truly are inferior.”

There was nothing he could say to that. She didn't expect him to. Instead, she rose, and poked through her collection of herbs and powders.

“If you're truly wanting to last, darling,” she knelt by him again, holding out a little box, “how would you feel about partaking in this?”

Eskel could smell the potency of the fisstech without needing to draw the contents close to his nose. Vaguely, he wondered what his brothers would think of him; contemplating taking stimulants with a powerful succubus, clearly bent on feeding her for the rest of the night. In his mind's eye, both Geralt and Lambert gave enthusiastic thumbs-up.

Fuck it, then.

“Just a little.” He agreed, holding out his hand so she could measure out a dose on the back of it. Eskel regarded the powder for a moment, before he lifted it to his right nostril, blocked the left, and breathed in sharply.

* * *

Everything hummed in sharp focus around Eskel. The flesh of the succubus' hip, warm within his grasp as he drove steadily into her cunt. The fur upon her calves scratched sweetly against his skin when he bottomed out within her. Her cries were loud, and they filled him, and for a stupid moment he imagined his own grunts became a harmonious melody. Their fucking was frantic and utterly perfect.

“Oh—oh yes, so _good_ , that's—oh, fuck!” She keened, throwing one leg further over his shoulder. Eskel eagerly palmed the arch of her back.

“Yeah?” He panted, “Like that, gorgeous?”

“Yes, yes, fuck, keep going, keep--”

“Gonna come for me again?” Eskel coaxed, teeth bared, the whip-snap of his thrusting relentless. "Come on, sweetheart, again, come for me."

She trembled mightily under him, swooning, the swollen muscles of her cunt collapsing. He moaned, desperate to follow her, on the precipice of his own orgasm; it taunted him, the peak easing, and he snarled his frustration. Eskel rutted uselessly, overstimulated and frantic.

“Darling,” she panted, “just a moment. My gods, I need—I need a moment.”

Obediently, Eskel stilled, before withdrawing from her. His cock stood aching and angry-red, twitching with his drug-tempered pulse, drumming against his abdomen. Between his legs, she purred, stretching luxuriantly as she reached for a skin of water. She drank deeply.

When it was offered to him, he blinked, and took it up, draining it dry in seconds. Or maybe it was longer than that. Everything seemed so compressed, an eyelash-flick of time; he wondered exactly how long he'd been tangled with the succubus.

Judging by the vague fatigue in his bones and the extremely sated appearance she presented, he imagined it had been awhile. Dazed, he fingered the wetness between his legs; the sticky squirt of her come clinging to his balls and thighs.

Fuck, she _had_ come, hadn't she? He'd taken her from behind, spooned her, let her ride him until her thighs gave out; the echo of her orgasms lingered in his memory like pipe-smoke, and he shivered. Maybe the fisstech wasn't being kind to him, but she was benefiting.

As he watched her sweat-glowing and smiling on the furs, he decided that was fine with him.

“Let's take care of you, hmm?” She whispered.

Eskel shook his head. “Can't,” he sighed, “I've been close for... awhile now. Can't get there. It's okay, sweetheart.”

She scrunched her nose cutely, rolling onto her side. “Give me sixty seconds with my mouth.”

Eskel raised an eyebrow. “Soul-sucking mouth, huh?”

“If anyone is to die tonight, it'll be me, witcher,” she laughed, “over-fed, truly. How am I to lie with a man again after this?”

He scratched absently at the side of his face. “You don't have to...”

“I know.” Pushing herself up onto her knees, she looked up at him. Hair damp, skin slick, the peek of her tongue wetting her cupid's bow as she asked with her eyes. Eskel had never seen such an erotic sight. Dumbly, he nodded.

Her mouth opened, and he felt the silky slip of her tongue on his drooling cockhead. He flinched, teeth catching on his lower lip, but she gave no quarter; with practised ease, she sucked him down into the cuddle-clutch of her throat.

“Fuck!” Eskel barked, desperately reaching over to grip the mantle with his left hand, vaguely aware that he should not touch her head. His right hand, the traitor, brushed the edge of one of her horns. She made a low moan that shot straight down Eskel's dick. Experimentally, he curled his fingers, holding her.

She did something with her tongue that Eskel was unprepared for. He gasped, following the sloppy slurp of her mouth as she withdrew from him, blindly chasing the relief of her. Helplessly, he grabbed at her other horn. She released the flared head of his prick with a debauched _pop_ , and winked at him.

Eskel was quivering. Just over ten seconds had passed. His entire world narrowed down to the goddess on her knees, the sweet cunt-scent and presence of her, and a whimper of surrender clawed free from between his pinched teeth.

Fifty seconds. It was never going to be fifty seconds.

She took him back into her mouth, her throat; she sucked and bobbed and let Eskel fuck her face when he could not control himself, let him use her horns like hand-holds, basked in the hoarse cries of pleasure that ripped from his chest. Eskel was blind with the feeling building low within his belly, a culmination of fisstech-edging and the beauty servicing him joyfully; he wanted to warn her, wanted to say something of coherence, but all he could manage was a shattered groan.

He came and came and _came_ into her mouth, rigid with orgasm, legs shuddering as she flayed his nerves exposed. She swallowed what she could, letting the rest drool from her lips and drip artfully onto her tits. Still he fell apart; his balls ached with the spend, urging more ropes of his come hot up the length of his twitching cock until he was completely dry. But still he came.

Eskel thought that perhaps she _was_ sucking his soul out. He also thought that it was the best way he could possibly depart from the mortal coil. Even as his sore cock ached, he hunched over her like a preciously adored possession, sobbing with the feeling of it.

Eventually, she gently released him, and he fell back against the bedding. His dick was still hard, still pulsing against his stomach, and Eskel squirmed, breath-hungry and wild. The last thing he was privy to witness before unconsciousness mercifully stole him was her lovely lips, streaked with his seed, pulled into a smile.

* * *

Eskel awoke to a burnt-out hearth. He'd avoided the worst of the dopamine crash from the fisstech by sleeping, it seemed, but he still felt entirely wrung-out. Groggily, he glanced at the light from the window; it was nearing midday. Which day of the week, however, he did not know.

The herbs from the sill were missing. Shaking himself awake, Eskel sat up, looking around for the succubus. Aside from the fur he had rested upon, the cabin was now void of her presence. In the middle of the room, his pack and his swords were neatly arranged, as well as his clothing.

He felt a sense of shame. Not because of what had transpired – fuck, Eskel would be thinking about her for the rest of his damn life – but because he never got to thank her, or learn her name, or say goodbye. As he rose to dress himself, a small bundle of cheesecloth caught his eye, beneath which a note was tucked.

The parcel contained strips of dried venison and a generous helping of wild strawberries. Eskel's hunger hit him with ferocity, and he began to devour the ration, barely chewing. When the berries were gone, he unfolded the small piece of parchment with care.

_Witcher,_

_Forgive me for not staying. We both know why I must move on. Please know that your attentiveness to me will keep me fed for weeks, and for that you have my thanks._

_And please know that I will remember the sound of your voice on lonely nights to come._

_I vow to keep your soul safe._

_X_

Eskel touched the ink with reverent fingers, and tucked the note safely within his pack.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on tumblr, @inber, for more nonsense :)


End file.
